Somewhere
by datbenik513
Summary: I'll find you somewhere I'll keep on trying until my dying day I just need to know whatever's happened, The truth will free my soul


at four thirty I smash the door of my walk-in closet open and start rummaging on the shelves in search of the best option I should wear tonight as I feel, I know tonight will be special, your devilish smile told me that last night when you saw me home and kissed me goodbye at my door; hell, I wanted that kiss to be a warm-up kiss instead of a goodbye kiss and invited you in but you teasingly said no and gave a last peck on my cheek and Disapparated right from between my arms

at five thirty I finally make up my mind and vote for the dark blue spaghetti-top dress my Dad bought me for my eighteenth birthday and it hangs now, magically cleaned and pressed, on my bedroom door, the Swarowski crystals on the shoulder straps glinstering in the candlelight, and I settle for a lacy thong of the same colour; at first I don't want to wear anything under my dress, but then decide that you deserve being treated nicely, knowing that you love fiddling around with my underwear and my legs go weak as I imagine your gentle touches on my thigh as you slide your fingers under the thin fabric and slowly pull it off my legs

at five forty five I slide into the bathtub filled with hot water and my favourite tea-rose scented bath foam, the one you had been smelling on my skin a week ago as you were kissing every square inch of my body on the thick Persian rug in front of the fireplace, driving me into sheer madness with those gentle kisses and feather-light touches which set my body on fire and switched my heart and breathing into overdrive

by six thirty our house elf Curtsy - honestly, which cruel mind could possibly have given such a ridiculous name to this wonderful, sweet creature - had already managed to dry my chestnut-brown hair, reaching until the small of my back, the Muggle way, using a magically tweaked hair-dryer and I examine my still naked reflection in the huge mirror and I conclude that my breasts could be a bit bigger and my bum slighly smaller but on the whole I'm satisfied with myself and quickly sit down at my dressing table to apply some very limited maquillage as I'm not really fond of it and five minutes later I'm done and welcome the cool, gentle touch of the dark blue velvet on my white skin and adding the finishing touch I decide to wear Grandmother's sapphire earrings and the matching pendant

and by the time the ancient grandfather's clock strikes seven my lipstick is in order and all necessary small things - lipstick, compact, toilet mirror, my wand, a spare handkerchief with the family crest embroidered in one corner, a credit card and some spare Galleons - find their place in my small bag made of blue leather which magically resizes itself to accommodate everything and I'm counting the strikes of the clock, knowing that on the seventh you will graciously step out of the fireplace and flash a 32-tooth-smile at me, rushing towards me so that you could take me in your arms and take my breath away with a simple kiss

but that ruddy clock chimes seven fifteen and you are still nowhere to be seen and I start to worry a bit, but only a bit, because there had been occasions earlier when you were late a few minutes and my besties keep saying that men never come up on time and that I have to get used to it and I don't care if you are late a bit, but only a bit, when you appear, out of breath, and close me in your arms

at seven thirty I start pacing the living room irritatedly and I'm getting desperate and angry and I want to shout out loud _damn you, Sirius Black, you better have a good reason for being late tonight _but I know that my anger would dissolve the very millisecond you'd look into my eyes with those warm puppy eyes of yours and I keep repeating myself that he would come, it was only traffic that had kept him so long

at eight I start crying and my makeup runs down my cheek in thin, black streams and I try to wipe them off but make things only worse and then I run towards the fireplace and throw a pinch of Floo powder into the embers and hysterically shout your address into the cold, green flames, but nobody answers and my brain goes overdrive and I try to figure out the places you might be but nobody answers any of my calls

_Lost in the darkness, _

_Hoping for a sign_

_Instead there is only silence,_

_Can't you hear my screams?_

_Never stop hoping,_

_Need to know where you are_

_But one thing's for sure,_

_You're always in my heart_

_I'll find you somewhere_

_I'll keep on trying until my dying day_

_I just need to know whatever has happened,_

_The truth will free my soul_

and then I break down and cry, cry as I have cried only once in my entire life, at the funeral of my Mum two years ago and Curtsy cries with me as she doesn't know what to do to fix things for her Mistress but I feel, no, know now for sure that nothing can be fixed and my inarticulate sobs wake op the portrait of Mum and she cries with me

it's eight fifty seven when you stumble out of the fireplace and I, startled, wake up in the armchair where I'd fallen asleep after my tears dried out and I reach for my reserve wand, mentally picking the best hex to curse you into next century and I almost utter the incantation when my brain signals that you look like crap, your tuxedo is stained and torn, your hair is unruly and your eyes are puffy and red from crying and you are unable to utter anything comprehensive so we just hold each other tight for dear life

ten minutes later you finally manage to tell me that Peter had betrayed all of us and Lily and James are murdered by Voldemort but Voldemort himself is dead as well, killed by his own rebounded Killing Curse and Harry's alive and well and Dumbledore had taken him to his Muggle relatives

then you suddenly go silent and look at my face very seriously as if you want to etch my features into your memory forever and I swallow heavily because I can foresee something really bad coming; you always look at me lovingly but now I see a spark of insanity in your eyes and I'm afraid of you, afraid for you and me and us

and you kiss me as you'd never kissed before and we don't want to part but you say we have to because you have some unfinished business to do and you cast a last, longing look at me as you step back into the fireplace

and this is the last time I've ever seen you

_Lost in the darkness, try to find your way home_

_I want to embrace you and never let you go_

_Almost hope you're in heaven so no one can hurt your soul_

_Living in agony 'cause I just do not know_

_Where you are_

_I'll find you somewhere_

_I'll keep on trying until my dying day_

_I just need to know whatever's happened,_

_The truth will free my soul_

all newspaper break the news a couple of days later about you killing Peter and a dozen Muggles, blowing up a whole street, they say you were laughing when you were brought in by the Aurors, they say you're a mass murderer and the follower of You-Know-Who but I don't believe it because I know better; I was there when Peter'd been made Secret Keeper

I demand to see the Minister but he just laughs in my face and says the evidences are overwhelming against you and you'll be getting a one-way ticket to Azkaban and I'm kicked out of the building

I demand to see Dumbledore and he, old and broken, says he can't do anything for your but I know there's more behind it and he simply doesn't want to do anything; he's too struck by the death of his three favourite students and having been betrayed by you, the fourth one

twelve years long, every blasted Friday, I'm standing in front of the visitors' entrance of Azkaban and each time I'm denied entrance and I just can't bear to see the building, can't bear the knowledge that you, proud and beautiful, are wasting away inside those prison walls, mossy, mouldy, water dripping from the ceiling, Dementors stealing your last memories of the few beautiful weeks we had spent together

and on a beautiful morning, as always, the Prophet lands on my desk, with a large photograph of a sunken-faced you with long, matted hair and an insane gaze in your eyes on the front page and the header saying "_BLACK STILL AT LARGE"_

and I'm smiling, then crying from joy; then I smash the door of my walk-in closet open and start rummaging on the shelves in search of the best option I should pack in as I promise myself that I'm going to find you no matter how long it would take, no matter in which corner of the Earth you are hiding

_Wherever you are, I won't stop searching_

_Whatever it takes me to go_

_I'll find you somewhere_

_I'll keep on trying until my dying day_

_I just need to know whatever's happened,_

_The truth will free my soul_


End file.
